


Out Here Together

by DawnsEternalLight



Series: All These Things Will Grow [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Camping, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, S'mores, Sibling Bonding, smores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Dick takes Damian camping out behind the manor and teaches him the finer details of what camping is, and of course, how to make s'mores.





	Out Here Together

**Author's Note:**

> While this is technically a sequel, you don't have to have read the first fic to get it. It should be enjoyable all on it's own

Damian expected the Manor to loom over them as they set their camp in the woods surrounding it. If not the building, the feeling of it. The knowledge that it was there, standing tall and empty, it’s occupants having fled for many reasons, chief of all the memories drifting inside, the only thing occupying it.

He kept turning from where he was helping Grayson nail stakes into the ground, his eyes lingering over the spot of trees he knew hid the building. They were still on Manor grounds, just tucked far enough away the place felt like land all it’s own.

Grayson promised it would feel like camping anywhere else, that they’d have enough space to separate themselves from the manor itself. He had been right. Damian had believed that some trace of the building could be felt out here, but it was absent. The woods folding around them like a thick blanket, even in their little clearing.

He was thankful that Grayson had been correct. Since his brother had suggested them camping on the land Damian had worried about the imposing structure ruining any enjoyment he might get from the experience. For Damian it was the emptiness that was the problem with the Manor. The lack. Lack of people, lack of warmth, and worst of all, lack of fond memories. To Grayson, the building was full of them, so much so it was overwhelming. To Damian? It was almost empty. He had very few memories there, none good.

The lack hurt. It was not fair that all of Father’s other children (the children he had chosen, had picked out specifically) had vast memories of the building. Of the man who made it a home. Damian should have those as well. He should have more than angry moments trapped inside, and desperate attempts just to get Father to _look_ at him and see more than a weapon sent by Mother. He should have something other than a terrible funeral, and the finality that came with it. It was not fair, but neither was life. Damian sucked in a deep breath and pulled his eyes from the trees, and onto his brother’s face, the sun beaming down on it as if to say it was as excited as Grayson was to be here.

“Once we get the tent up we can work on the fire. I’ll need you to gather some wood while I get the pit set up.” Grayson said, voice cheery as he worked.

He’d spoken of nothing but their camping trip since he’d promised it the previous weekend. Damian had thought Grayson might have forgotten, but what had seemed to be a promise made to soothe Damian, had been earnest.

Damian would not deny the man the trip. Grayson was in need of a break as much as Damian a distraction from the visions of Ivy’s vines still haunting his dreams after their disastrous encounter. It was nice to get away, and Damian would not admit it, but he was looking forward to this ‘camping’ trip. He knew Grayson’s camping would be much different than anything he had experienced before, and he was learning to see that as a good thing.

“And then are we to make s’mores?” Damian asked, moving with Grayson to the next peg.

His brother nodded while hammering it into the ground, “Eventually. We’ve got to finish setting up and have an actual meal. Alfred would kill me if he found out we skipped straight to dessert.” he paused to grin at Damian, “Besides, s’mores are best made under the stars.”

Damian did not bother asking why his brother believed that. The tone and look he’d said it with told Damian it was one of those things Grayson would not have a proper answer for. He would say something inane like “Just because” or “Wait and see”.

They finished setting up the tent, and Damian left to gather wood for the fire. He ducked into the trees just as Grayson was beginning to sing something with a light fast beat.

The trees swallowed Damian in a quiet, calming way. Bird song replaced Grayson’s singing, and the wind rustled through leaves turning towards bright autumn shades. Away from the sun, cool air started to pick at Damian’s bare arms, teasing the bitter cold to come. Damian was not looking forward to Gotham’s winter.

He scooped up fallen sticks and branches, shaken off trees from Gotham’s most recent storm, filling his arms with them, his movements relaxed.

It was odd, to consider camping a fun activity and not one simply meant for survival. Damian was still wrapping his mind around the fact that Grayson did not expect anything from him. That there were no trials or quests or traps in store for him to work through. Just rest, and relaxation. Grayson said it was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience, a time set aside to enjoy fresh air and the stars free of light pollution.

Damian had not really seen the stars in a long time.

He lifted a stick, still a little damp, and added it to his pile. Gotham was far different than living with Mother. The city was not only full of noise, but of light and smoke and clouds that liked to drift in and sit for days. Stars were few and far between, with only the brightest breaking through the sky to shine down.

The sun was still high in the sky, dappling his hands with light as it shone down through the leaves. Still, he knew the day would wane away the same as any and he’d get to look up at more stars than he’d seen in a while.

Damian finished collecting what should be enough wood to get things started and moved back towards the camp. When he stepped out into the small clearing they’d chosen Grayson was nowhere to be seen.

His heart fell into his stomach. Was this a test? Had his brother left him to survive on his own? His mind flashed back to his failure with Ivy, the danger he’d put himself and his brother in. If Grayson had left him, perhaps it was for good reason. To ensure he could handle himself and not screw up again. He would have to survive surrounded by the thing that had confounded him before.

He swallowed, and knelt to set the sticks by the pit Grayson had dug out, his face hot, stomach cold.

Behind him, a twig snapped, and Damian jumped, images of Ivy’s moving plants crawling behind him. He stood, and turned in a motion, a stick held firmly in his hand, and prepared himself for the worst.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Grayson said, hands held up. A bag dangled in one, its plastic stretched by a weight inside.

“Grayson.” Damian dropped the stick, feeling foolish. His face was heating up for a very different reason now, “Where did you go?”

“We left the s’more stuff in the car. I thought I’d be back before you. Everything alright?”

“Tt. Of course.” Damian said, turning back to the pit.

He knelt again by it, trying to force his breathing to even out and his face to cool. He had been an idiot to think Grayson would leave him. Had they not worked together long enough that he trusted the man? Knew that if he promised a trip would have no tests, he was not lying?

The sticks were a mess where he’d dropped them, and Damian fumbled with them to create a tidy pile, moving the best to the pit. He stacked them in a way to help promote flames when they lit the fire.

“You’re pretty good at that, I thought you hadn’t been camping before.” Grayson said, moving to stand by Damian. His shadow fell over Damian’s arm, casting a chill where sun had been warming it.

He shrugged, “I have not been camping in the traditional sense. I was taught the basics of survival in the league. Though, I have had much practice since then.” he shifted, brushing his hands off on his pants, “In addition to other missions, I often found myself in the desert overnight. It can get quite cold when the sun goes down.”

“Then maybe I should have gone off for wood and left you to set this up.” Grayson’s tone was cheery, but strained, as if he had seen through Damian’s careful attempts at leaving out difficulties of his missions, and had made his own assumptions.

“Grayson.” Damian started and shook his head, he would not convince his brother that his previous experience had been ‘fine’, not when he himself had just used it to think wrongly of his brother, “I did not get enough to keep the fire going. If you’d like we could gather more together, and not have to search later.”

They collected more than enough wood to keep their little campfire burning through the night. The day slipped by with fishing in the pond close by, Grayson instigating a splashing fight, and Damian finally insisting they get off the water so they could eat and he could sketch.

He had enjoyed the activities, but when Grayson finally settled into a hammock to nap after their late lunch, Damian found himself truly enjoying the quiet of things around him. He had managed to forget about the empty manor behind them, and how previous camping had felt strained and tense with worry of attacks or missions failing. It was nice to rest with his back against a tree and start pulling lines across the page in a semblance of the lake they’d just spent the day on.

Damian drew until the sun dipped so low it seemed to be melting into the lake, leaking warm reds and oranges across the water and streaking the once blue sky with purples and pinks. He roused Grayson from where he’d been reading and together they made dinner, Damian lighting the fire at last, and Grayson digging out the containers Alfred had prepared for them.

“Next time we do this, we can make an effort to actually catch something and cook it.” Grayson said, dipping his spoon into his bowl, “I can’t tell you how shocked I was the first time B got a fish ready to cook over the fire, it still had it’s head and eyes and.” Grayson broke off his description to shudder.

“Tt, you should try cooking a snake over a fire.” Damian said, his attention less on Grayson than on his own dinner, a thick delicious stew that had been easy to warm up.

Grayson’s lack of response prompted Damian to look up from his food. HIs brother was gaping at him, eyes wide.

“Really, Grayson, snake is not that exotic a food.” Damian scoffed, “I simply mentioned it due to the similarities of grossness when cooking. It is not pleasant to watch its face roast over a fire.”

There was a beat, and Grayson laughed, the sound an explosion of force from his chest. Damian frowned at him, his nose wrinkling as he tried to decide just what he’d said that was so humorous.

It took his brother a moment to recover himself, and with a wheezing start he explained, “I never imagined I’d hear the word grossness from you. It’s not very Damian like.”

“Is that all?” Damian said, face still scrunched in a frown.

“I also tried to picture what roasting a snake over a fire might be like and I got stuck on the image of trying to wrap it around a stick and it sliding down.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You would impale at least part of it. Really, Grayson, to suggest that is like suggesting you set the fish on a stick to cook it.”

Grayson pointed his spoon at Damian, “That too would be pretty funny. You know, some people use leaves to smoke them.”

“That is a different style altogether. I believe we are probably best sticking with Pennyworth’s cooking.” Damian told him.

His brother nodded, taking a bite of his stew as if to say he wholeheartedly agreed.

Damian was eager to try the s’mores after they ate. He did not wish to seem that way, or even excited about it, so instead of suggesting Grayson teach him immediately, he helped clean their mess, and set about making sure the fire was fed. Once those things were done, he sat in his lawn chair and tapped his foot, unable to figure out what to do next.

Grayson stood from his chair and stretched, looking over at Damian when he was done, “You ready for some dessert?”

Damian nodded, “What are our first steps?”

“First we have to find sticks.” Grayson said, moving to collect the bag of s'mores supplies he'd retrieved earlier. 

“What?” Damian asked, “We have enough kindling for the fire, Grayson.”

Grayson shook his head, and sat back down, “Not for that.”

“I believe it would be best if you described what a s’more is, and the steps to creating it so I may understand why something typically inedible is required.” Damian said.

His brother sighed, and described s’mores as a sandwich of graham cracker, chocolate and a marshmallow toasted over the fire to him. As he did so, he pulled each item from the bag he’d retrieved earlier, and showed Damian an image of a completed s’more on the back of the cracker box.

“I am still unclear on the use of the stick.”

“We’ve got to use it to cook the marshmallows, you’re not just going to toss those in the fire. And a s’more isn’t a s'more unless they’re melted and gooey.” Grayson said.

“So it is like the fish.”

“Or the snake.” Grayson grinned, “I think you found some good ones on your first trip to get wood that we could use, so we won’t have to pick through the trees in the dark.”

Grayson showed him the right kind of stick, and then proceeded to spear a large marshmallow onto his own, “We’re going to cook these and then put everything together fast so the heat helps melt the chocolate a bit.”

“What is the cooking time for the marshmallows?” Damian asked, rolling his stick between his palms, it was rough but not too rough to give him splinters. He liked the way it turned in uneven bumps across his palms, “Do we allow them to burn or pull them out quickly?”

“It depends.” Grayson answered, “Some people like it crispy and black, others prefer it just a little warm so it’s gooey.”

Damian nodded and speared a marshmallow of his own. He watched as Grayson dipped his into the fire for a moment before he thrust his own deep into the flames. He turned it, watching as the white was taken over with brown, and tugged it out. The sweet was still on fire, like a candle on a comically sized wick.

“How do you prefer yours?” Damian asked.

“Ooey and gooey.” his brother answered.

Damian let the fire crisp his marshmallow until parts were dotted with black before he blew out the flame, “Then we are to place it on chocolate and graham crackers?” he asked, side eyeing Grayson.

He received a nod in response, and was handed two crackers and a quarter of a Hershey’s bar. Damian frowned at it.

“We can surely afford better chocolate.”

“You can’t use anything other than Hershey’s for s’mores.” Grayson told him, his voice solemn, “It is the way.”

Damian rolled his eyes but built his sandwich the way his brother did. Cracker, chocolate, marshmallow squished on with the second cracker. Grayson bit right in, making happy eating sounds as he all but devoured the treat. Damian eyed his, watching the chocolate begin to melt under the heat of his marshmallow.

Eventually, he did take a bite, delighting in the strange crunchy and soft texture of the thing. He enjoyed the way the burnt bits of the marshmallow bit at his tongue with a slight caramelized taste. It tasted of Pennyworth’s Crème brûlées. He liked how the flavors balanced themselves out. The not too sweet cracker, the bitter burned bits of the marshmallow, and the milky chocolate all somehow created a tasty food.

As much as he enjoyed the combined flavors of the s’more, Damian found himself wishing to try the marshmallow alone. He had only ever had Pennyworth’s marshmallows, hand made and cut into cubes to be added to cocoa. He was curious about the difference between store bought and what he knew, and of course, of the roasted taste on its own.

“Would it be possible to have just a marshmallow?” he asked his brother.

Grayson frowned, “Do you not like the s’more?”

“It is an adequate treat, I simply wished to try roasting a marshmallow on it’s own.” Damian told him, and to prove his enjoyment of the s’more, he finished his off, resisting the urge to lick the sticky bits of chocolate off his fingers.

His brother’s eyes widened, “Have you never had a roasted marshmallow before?”

“It should not be that surprising.” Damian said, shoulders stiffening, “There are a number of things I have not tried. Besides, if I had never had a s’more is it such a leap to realize I have also never thought to cook a marshmallow?”

“I guess. I-- yeah you’re right. You probably would have known about the stick thing then.” Grayson gave him an embarrassed smile, “Alright, one marshmallow coming up.”

Damian took it, squishing it slightly between his fingers before he pressed it onto the lingering remains of the last one, still stick on the stick. He let this one cook longer than the last, almost blackening it with the flames before putting it out.

It was as equally delicious as the s’more, for its own reasons. Damian thought it was the crispy, slightly bitter flavor that he enjoyed most. He was not normally one for overly sweet things, and burning it slightly helped cut that sweetness to something palatable.

Damian then decided to try an uncooked marshmallow. He took one bite of it and deemed it disgusting. It was too sweet compared with Pennyworth’s. He would stick to roasting the ones Grayson had brought.

Grayson leaned forward, towards the fire, “I really wish Bruce could have been out here with us. He would have loved showing you the ropes.” he sighed, a wistful sad sound.

Damian was unsure how to respond. He too would have liked Father to be here, but that was not possible. Father was dead. That was the whole reason Damian and Grayson were even together, because Grayson was all Damian had left to link him to Father and the legacy he had trained his whole life for.

“You guys like your marshmallows the same. Not just the roasting way, but B also doesn’t like the store bought kind unless they’re burnt to a crisp.”

Damian swallowed and turned to look at the fire, “Do you think he would have taken me camping?”

“Why would you ask that?” Grayson seemed surprised, “Of course he would have.”

Damian shrugged and tried not to think of the imposing building hidden by trees behind them. Of the way he had yelled at Father, and Father had yelled back. Of the cold, desperate, feeling in the air that seemed to scream “you do not belong here, you never did and never will” he had fought against every day he’d spent there.

He tried not to think about the countless pictures of his Father smiling with children he had chosen, and the fact that he had never once had that smile for himself.

“He and I did not get along as you and I do.” Damian said.

“Well.” Grayson shifted so he was leaning closer to Damian now, “You and I didn’t have such a great start either. But we got past that, we learned to accept each other and grew close.”

Something thick seemed caught in Damian’s throat, and his chest felt sharp and tight, he decided to blame it on the smoke drifting off the fire, stinging his eyes and catching in his lungs, “But Father is, was, not like you. You have said so yourself many times. He--”

“Damian, look at me.” Grayson reached out and tilted Damian’s face away from the fire and towards his, “Your father loved you. He might not have acted like it, or shown it the right way, but I can promise you that with a little time you would have known it.”

Damian bit back the desire to correct Grayson, and tell him he was wrong. Father had tolerated Damian, but he had not wanted him. Had not picked him for anything. Not like Grayson had done. _He_ had chosen to keep Damian in Gotham, had chosen to take care of him. Damian had been thrust upon Father, not picked.

“He talked about you.” Grayson said, surprising Damian, “After he thought you’d died on that boat. Told me just how badly he’d messed up, and how he regretted not doing something different.”

Damian did not know Father had thought he’d died. It made sense. Damian’s wounds had been severe, but surely Mother would have told Father of his recovery? There was no need to hide Damian’s existence from him, especially if she wanted Damian to learn from him.

“Then after that mess with Ra’s, Bruce was beside himself. He wasn’t really sure what to do. You were back with your mom and he didn’t know what was best. I guess time figured all that out for us, since you guys showed up just before he died.”

Damian nodded, his mind racing. Father had thought more of him than that he was in the way? He had considered bringing him to Gotham? It was comforting news that Damian wished he had received sooner. 

“Do you think he would have had me stay, if he had not died?”

“Of course.” Grayson said, he let go of Damian’s chin and brushed his hair back, “If I could change anything I would have Bruce back, not just for me, but for you. He would have loved you so much, Damian. He would have been lucky to get to know you like I have.”

It was too much for Damian. His chest was doing funny things, and his throat was too tight, the feeling spreading beyond that and to his eyes. He had regretted much about his father, but had never considered Father might regret some of his own actions.

He pulled away from Grayson and stood, “I will clean up our mess.” he said, hoping his brother would give him the space he needed to begin sorting things out in his head.

“Of course.” Grayson’s voice was soft.

Damian paused, “I wish he was alive as well, not just to know him, but so you would not have to miss him so much.”

Grayson stood, and without warning tugged Damian into a hug. It was so tight Damian couldn’t breathe. When Grayson loosened the hug, Damian let his head fall forward into his chest.

“Thank you.” Grayson said, pressing a kiss into his hair.

Damian wiggled away from the hug, “We must clean up.” He hoped Grayson understood his own unsaid thanks. 

Together, they tidied their mess. After, neither of them were quite ready for bed. Instead they sat quietly around the fire, feeding it while they thought. Grayson dug the marshmallows back out and sat the bag between them, picking at them as he failed to continue reading his book.

Damian tried to work on his sketch from earlier that day, but he could not focus like he wished. His head was buzzing with this new idea of his father. Someone who he might truly have had a relationship with if things had gone differently.

The crackling of the fire and cricket song the only sounds filling the space between them. Damian could not say what Grayson was thinking of, but he could guess it was also about Father. Damian he known him long enough at this point to know when he was thinking of the time before. His gaze grew distant and sad, even if he was lingering on thoughts of happy times.

It was some time before Grayson broke the silence, changing the subject of both their musings with a, “I told you we’d get some stars out here.”

Damian had not even though to look up since the sun had set. He’d been too focused on dinner and the distraction of s’mores. And then on thoughts of his father.

He tilted his head back, and his eyes widened. It was not nearly the vast collection of stars he was used to at home. There, the sky was littered with them, more than Damian could ever know what to do with.

This was not also the stars he saw in Gotham, on their nightly patrols or when he would go up to the roof of the penthouse to look out across the city. There he was lucky to see a handful of stars.

These were something in between. Constellations he’d learned about were visible, and he could just make out a portion of the Milky Way, not as bright as he knew it to be, but still sparkling in its beauty.

“ _Oh_.” he said, “You were not wrong.”

“It’s not as many as I’m sure you’re used to, but I learned to love them like this.” Grayson said.

Damian tore his eyes away from the expanse to look at his brother, “Did you stargaze as a child?”

Grayson hummed, “I got to see a lot as we traveled with the circus. There were long stretches of empty road where more than this were visible. We’d camp out overnight and I’d stargaze with my parents.”

He looked back up into the sky with a nod, “It makes you feel close to them again?”

“Mhmm.”

They watched the sky for a little longer before Damian spoke up.

“I have always found them peaceful.” Damian said, his voice quiet, “They are so much bigger than anything I might face, and they are easy to get lost in.”

Even at home, Damian had loved staring up at the stars for long hours. Often it was the time he was most alone in the day. A time when no one asked anything of him, and time could slow to a crawl as he breathed in the cool desert air and stared up at the vast expanse.

He pulled his attention away from the sky again to look at his brother, “Grayson?”

It took Grayson a moment to look at him, “Yeah?”

“Thank you. This has been an enjoyable day.”

Grayson’s grin was so wide Damian was afraid it might split his face, “Enjoyable? That’s some high praise.”

Damian felt his cheeks warm, and he scowled, “Do not turn it into something only tolerable.”

“Never,” Grayson’s tone softened, “I’m really glad you had a good time. I was kinda afraid you’d think the trees were going to eat you.”

“Tt. I am not you, I was quickly over any assumptions of the sort.”

“Quickly?” there was a mischievous gleam to Grayson’s eyes, “Is that what you thought earlier? Were you planning to defend yourself from Ivy with a stick?”

“Shut up.” Damian said, throwing a marshmallow at him.

Grayson had the gall to catch it in his mouth and grin.

“You are insufferable.” Damian pouted, “I do not know why I bothered to let you take me on this outing in the first place.”

“Because I’m a great brother, and you love me.”

Damian huffed, and grabbed another marshmallow. Grayson shifted to catch it, but Damian retrieved his stick and speared the thing, pushing it into the fire to get a char.

“No.” he said, turning the stick, “It is because Pennyworth would have been disappointed in my disappointing you, and that would have been far more unbearable than this.”

Grayson hummed in a way that said he did not believe Damian, “I’m pretty sure it was because I’m a great brother and you love me.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “You don’t have to admit it. I already know.”

Damian rolled his eyes at him, but didn’t deny the statement. He did love his brother, and Grayson was great, but admitting that would not be good for either of them. It would go to his head and Damian would never hear the end of it. No, keeping silent was the best option.

“After this we should sleep. We’ve got to be up early tomorrow if we want to fit in everything I have planned.” Grayson continued, before popping another marshmallow in his mouth, “It’ll be even more fun than today. I promise.”

Damian didn’t doubt that it would be true. When they laid down in the tent to sleep, he was up longer than he’d admit imagining what Grayson might have planned for the next day, and how he might convince the man to plan another camping trip soon.


End file.
